


Assessment

by Dreamin



Series: The British Government and Her [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Pre-Relationship, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-28 16:11:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13907625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreamin/pseuds/Dreamin
Summary: Six months after Sherlock Holmes' fall, Sally meets another member of the Holmes family.





	Assessment

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cutebutpsycho](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cutebutpsycho/gifts).



> This is a prequel to "The British Government and Her." Cutebutpsycho requested their meeting and chose a coffee shop as the location, so...

Sally took the first sip of her caramel macchiato and finally felt herself starting to unwind. It had been a grueling week of answering Internal Affairs’ questions about Holmes, Lestrade, and Richard Brook. _And there’ll be even more questions on Monday._ Saturday morning was the time she always reserved to do nothing but relax, hence the Starbucks visit. _Sure, the coffee’s overpriced and the line’s always too long, but at least the atmosphere’s cozy and the wi-fi can’t be beat._ _The caffeine doesn’t hurt either._

She was in the middle of reading an update by one of her favorite fanfic writers when someone cleared their throat. She looked up at the most dapper, and most bored, man she’d ever seen. Immediately pegging him as Internal Affairs, _just one I haven’t met yet_ , she could feel herself tense up all over again. “Yes?” she asked cautiously.

“Is this seat taken?” he asked, one hand on the back of the chair across from her. A quick glance around told her that all the other seats were taken.

 _Saturday morning rush._ “No, go ahead.”

“Thank you.” He sat down then took a sip of his coffee as he assessed her.

Mentally rolling her eyes, she decided an introduction was in order. “Sally Donovan,” she said, holding out her hand.

He shook her hand. “Mycroft Holmes.”

 _Thank God I hadn’t taken another sip,_ she thought, staring at him. “Holmes?  As in…”

“As in elder brother of Sherlock, yes.”

“Have you come to blame me for his death?” she asked quietly. _I knew the Holmes family would track me down eventually, but I was expecting their revenge in the form of a wrongful death lawsuit, not this._

“Sherlock made the decision on his own. He will be vindicated, eventually. My brother was many things, Sergeant, but he was not a fake.” He sounded so dispassionate, like they were discussing the weather instead of the suicide of his younger brother.

Sally had had enough. “Stop this,” she said firmly, ignoring the other patrons who were looking their way. “Your brother is dead because of me. You’re supposed to hate me, curse me, do something other than just sit there and sip your fucking cappuccino.”

“I have better things to do with my time than blame someone else for my brother’s course of action.”

“Then. Why. Are. You. Here?” she ground out.

“I wanted to see how his death affected you.” He assessed her for a moment. “Your current guilt is a sign that you are starting to believe him.”

She looked down at her coffee. “Yeah, well, fat lot of good that does him now. I should’ve believed him six months ago.”

“Your former paramour-”

“You mean mistake.”

“Philip Anderson has also changed his mind and is developing ever more involved conspiracy theories.” When she looked up at him, he added, “Perhaps you should inform him of your change of heart.”

“I don’t even want to be in the same time zone as him.”

“Then I suggest you choose your next lover with more care.” He finished his coffee then rose. “Good day, Sergeant.”

She blurted the first thing that came to mind. “Are you free for lunch?” At his raised eyebrow, she added quickly, “We can talk more about Sherlock.”

“I have plans but nothing I can’t reschedule.”

Sally smiled for what felt like the first time in months. “Good.”


End file.
